


Your Song

by williamastankova



Category: Rocketman (2019) RPF
Genre: Canon Gay Character, First Kiss, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2020-04-05 03:34:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19040311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/williamastankova/pseuds/williamastankova
Summary: They've just written a number one song, but before it's published and they gain fame, they want to spend just one more day (and night) together, as Bernie and Reggie.





	Your Song

**Author's Note:**

> I saw the film and had to write this little piece! 
> 
> DISCLAIMER: this is merely a work of fiction, based on two real people. I respect the fact that the two of them live lives that do not coincide with this fic, and I absolutely do not claim/presume to know anybody's sexuality. They are both married to separate people and have lovely lives that this fic is not meant to represent or influence.
> 
> That being said, enjoy! :)

"It's great," he can't help but beam at Bernie, "It's the best thing I've ever heard."

Bernie's smiling back at him, too, but it's quite hollow. It's not insincere, but it looks like he's only half there, the other half cooped away in some distant part of his mind. He hasn't shaved yet, hasn't even begun to have a wash, but Reggie isn't thinking about that. All he can think about is that new song - "Your Song", Bernie had titled it, scribbled thoughtfully at the top - and how that might just be what they've been waiting for since forever.

He watches his friend for a second longer before slipping out of the room past him, patting him on the back once firmly, still smiling brightly as he slips upstairs and into his room. He figures it's time to get dressed, even if he doesn't know what he's going to do that day. It just seems like a great waste of such a productive day to do nothing, so he throws on the first thing he finds and listens to the tap on the bathroom turn on and off, signalling his friend had finally gotten out of his trance and was being productive, too. He smirked.

He doesn't quite know what to do with himself. After all, this song - "Your Song" - was sure to be a success, which was of course brilliant, but it left him paralysed with fear. Once they'd hit this point, surely the only way now was down? Surely they'd had their big break, or they were about to, and afterwards nobody would remember their names? He didn't want that to happen - oh, God, he didn't want that to happen - and he was prepared to enter a cold state, rocking back and forth on his bed, when his bedroom door suddenly swung open.

Stood there, freshly shaven and looking squeaky clean, stood Bernie. His smile wasn't on his face anymore, but he looked far from upset, by any means. He took a moment to stand and hold Reggie's eye, before he cleared his throat and spoke up.

"Let's go out," he suggested, "Today. To celebrate."

Reggie's warmth flooded back to him. "Yeah, alright. Where do you wanna go?"

"Anywhere," Bernie's face broke in a great, charming smile, "Everywhere."

**

And so, when they were both dressed and had their hair brushed (and, in Bernie's case, their hair was mainly dry), they set out. With a word to his grandmother and mother, Reggie told them not to wait up, and the two of them all but jumped out of the door, filled to the brim with excitement. They looked at each other, both grinning excitedly, yet neither piped up to ask just where they were going: it seemed mutually accepted that they would keep on walking until they found something that caught their eye.

That thing, it seemed, was the infamous coffee shop. Where they had met for the very first time, like taking a trip down memory lane, they stumbled across, and so slipped inside. The pair of them went to order, chatting while they waited, then found a seat - the very one they had sat in when they first met. The buzz in the corner was undeniable.

"I just can't believe it," Bernie sighed, almost toppling over with the force he used to sit down, throwing himself into the seat carelessly, "Can you?"

"No," Reggie chuckled, though he could not say why, "No, I can't believe it. D'you reckon we'll make it to number one?"

"Obviously," Bernie smirked over at him, and as he did so Reggie's own smile fell.

There it was again. He'd done it before - felt this before, in this exact place, at a different time - and so he knew how it ended, yet there was the sensation all over again. As he looked across the table at Bernie, he felt sparks, like there was something special happening. Only this time it couldn't be mistaken for anything else, not their song-writing potential or friendship or anything. He felt sick, but couldn't stop admiring the man's well-structured face and sparkling eyes.

It seemed Bernie was experiencing something similar, what with how he held Reggie's gaze rather seriously for just a beat too long, though he had more self-restraint. He broke their eye contact, opting instead to stare at the steam pouring from his coffee, and he braved drinking it first. Reggie figured this was probably because he'd rather have third-degree burns and half a tongue left than watch Reggie look at him like _that_  for a second longer. He flushed red and turned back to his own drink, the moment gone but not forgotten.

His coffee is hot when he drinks it, bordering on scalding. He flinches when it touches his tongue, but he still drinks it, ignoring how the small sip burns down his throat and into his stomach. He shakes off the sensation and, though his tongue feels sore for a while afterwards, he continues the conversation on diligently.

"Elton John," Bernie tries the name on his tongue, almost sounding taunting with how slowly he says it, "I like it. Where'd you get it from?"

Reggie laughs, "Stole Elton from... Elton. Obviously. And John - well, as in John Lennon."

"John Lennon!" Something about this revelation sends Bernie spiralling into a fit of howling laughter, that disrupts the entire shop and its diners. Reggie's ready to apologise to them individually, but then Bernie stops and looks him dead in the eye, speaking now in a hushed whisper. "Where the bloody hell did you get that one from?"

"I panicked!" Reggie can see the humour in the situation now, but manages to keep his voice down, "I saw him on the wall in the office and I- I dunno, really. It just fit. Rolls of the tongue, don't you think?"

Bernie's face cracks into a bright smile. "Yeah, yeah you're right. I think it does."

Reggie smiles back, but doesn't let himself look for too long. The bright blue of Bernie's eyes might just draw him in too close, and he might lose all sense of where they are and who they are, and he'd go ahead and ruin it all before it's even began. He drops his gaze once more and finishes his drink in relative silence, and then they're back on the street, walking about like they've got all the time in the world.

"I was thinking," Bernie begins to speak again, as the night begins to draw in, the darkness surrounding them like a smooth yet menacing tide, the streetlights turning on one by one, "Maybe I should change my name, too."

Reggie looks at him and raises a single eyebrow - not judgemental, but inquisitive - and shrugs, motioning to a nearby bench. "Let's have a think, then."

The two of them sit, Bernie first, followed by Reggie. They're sat just about as close as they usually are, as comfortable as ever, and Bernie pulls out a small notepad that Reggie hadn't noticed he was carrying, apparently for the whole day. He waits patiently for his friend to find a page clean of dismissed lyrics, and when he does he pulls out a black pen (which Reggie also hadn't seen prior) and scrawls 'names' ambiguously on the top of the page.

The first one on the list is, of course, Bernie Taupin. Then, Bernie looks over to him and makes a motion that says 'well? What else?'. Reggie takes a long minute to think to himself, then snatches the notepad - Bernie doesn't seem to mind, though.

He makes sure Bernie is watching as he scribbles 'Benjamin Taint', which initiates round two of Bernie's laughter fit. He pushes Reggie, scolding him with a repeated 'tsk' sound, and then looks incredulously down at the page. He looks to be in a state of utter disbelief for a moment, then turns the book around to show it clearly to Reggie, who's laughing privately now.

"'Taint'? Seriously, Reg?" Bernie would sound sincerely upset with him, only there's the slight upward tip of his lip that Reggie can see beneath the glow of the streetlight that lets him know it's all alright, really, even if they appear to be fighting at first glance. "Real chick magnet that, you know."

"Why not?" Reggie can't even pretend he isn't amused now, because he's shaking he's laughing so hard. "I've heard it's the new thing."

"Oh, yeah, sure. Whatever you say," Bernie feigns agreement, and his smile grows wider as he scribbles through the writing and says, "You're no use, you know that?"

Maybe it's the twinge of endearment in the words that make Reggie stop. It sounds so sincere, so genuine, so kind, that he just stops dead in his tracks. He stops laughing, finding himself unable to do anything but stare at Bernie, who looks ethereal under the warm glow of the streetlamp. His mouth hangs open as he watches his friend, and that _thing_  is back again, that stupid thing that tells him lies about the two of them, what they can do.

"Do you mean that?"

He doesn't mean to ask it. It just falls from his open mouth, cleverly. He feels like a neanderthal as he waits, watching as Bernie looks up at him, finished scribbling through his magnificent work, and his eyes lose all jest, mirroring Reggie's. His lips part, he's looking at Reggie, looking at him, looking at his lips and his hair and tracing the outline of his face, and a girlish part of Reggie's mind hopes to God he looks good - good enough to kiss?

"I-" Bernie looks torn, almost like he's going to do it, like he's going to do what Reggie wants, and what Reggie hopes he wants, too, but then his eyes drop back to the book and he finishes plainly with, "No, 'course I don't, Reg."

Reggie feels stupid. Obviously he isn't angry with Bernie - hell, what a monster would he have to be to feel resentment to that man who's given him nothing but support? He just feels like he's led himself on - knows he has - and now he's paying the price for it. He takes a moment of grief in which he sacrifices any sustenance the moment holds, then all of a sudden he's back on his feet and he's got his face on again, the smiling one, the one dragging his friend about the city.

"Well, come on then!"

**

The two of them head pretty much straight back to Reggie's mum's house after that, leaving the single, scribbled out name on the paper. They get in, barely check the time, and decide it's high time for bed. After all, there's no movement in the house, which says it's at least after ten, because otherwise his grandmother would be bustling about, and his mum would be yelling at them for coming home at such an hour.

They're quiet as they go upstairs, and they part ways silently. Then, about five seconds after they've said their goodnights, they're back together, because they each individually forgot to brush their teeth, or actually do absolutely any part of their nightly routine. They chuckle at their joint idiocy, and both get ready for bed in the bathroom.

The second time around, they're sure it's time to go to sleep. They part once again, a small 'night' uttered from each of them, and their doors shut agonisingly slowly, trying their very best not to wake Reggie's family. He sighs when he's finally alone in his room, letting his back fall against the wall momentarily, the events of that day and night washing over him, making him feel a sort of green-sickness.

He wonders why he's feeling this way, again. Bernie's already told him he doesn't think of him in that way, and he respects that boundary, but he can't seem to get the man out of his head. It's probably because they're living in such close quarters, like they aren't used to doing, so his imagination - every part of it - is intertwining with Bernie's, leading to such strange desires being uprooted.

He tries his best to shake off the thoughts, but when he clambers into bed and bundles himself up in the duvet, they're still there. It's not a matter of him disliking the 'gay thoughts', it's the fact that they involve his best friend, a man he had previously imagined an entire future with, and they're so _vivid_.

He dares not linger on any single one for too long, because then it might haunt him throughout the night and into tomorrow daytime, which he can't have. If they're going to continue to work together, he can't be thinking of Bernie in such a way all of the time, because he'll never get anything from it, and that might lead to some selfish resentment, and they'll fall apart, and it'd all just be too much.

He sighs, throwing himself to the other side of the bed, making a racket, though he doesn't care who he wakes up at this time. He squeezes his eyes tightly shut, willing himself to sleep, but having the opposite effect. He just can't sleep, and he begins to think he's hallucinating, made sick with sleep deprivation, when he thinks he hears a slight, muffled whispering coming from somewhere in his room.

"Reg," it says to him, in a familiar accent, "You awake?"

He can't tell how long it's been since they parted, but he knows for sure Bernie is back, at his door, peeping in now. At first, it's a rather ghastly sight, something not unlike a horror film. But then, once he's realised who it is and what he's saying, he relaxes, feeling more comfortable and able to respond.

"Yeah," he whispers back, "You?"

He swears he can hear Bernie mocking him for this poor choice of question, even though the boy says nothing. He can at least blame it on tiredness, though he doesn't suppose it matters when his door creaks open and in slips Bernie. He slowly closes the door behind him, and Reggie takes the time to sit up in his bed, letting himself out of the covers that make him feel, frankly, like he's choking to death.

Bernie seems to have trouble navigating the dark room, but eventually he manages to settle himself on Reggie's bed, sat cross-legged across from him. The only sound that fills the room for moments is their breathing, light and intermixed. Reggie doesn't know who's supposed to speak first, but just as he opens his mouth, takes in a breath, ready to speak, Bernie takes it upon himself to initiate conversation.

"I'm sorry, Reg," he apologises out of the blue, "For saying that before."

Reggie shakes his head. "What stuff?"

"You know, the stuff," Bernie responds intelligently, "I really didn't mean it. You're not useless, you never have been."

Oh. Yeah, alright, Reggie understands now; he's all caught up-to-date. "I know, Bernie. Don't worry about it."

"No, Reg, it's just that I-" it sounds almost like Bernie wants to say something, but is at the very same time doing everything in his power to avoid saying it. He instead opts to change his sentence's structure. "You're great, you know? I'm always speaking before I think, and I just wanted to say sorry. I really do appreciate you, Reg."

Reggie isn't sure if Bernie can see it, but he breaks into a wide smile. He knows all of this already, but it's nice to hear it aloud once in a while, even if it's in jumbled sentences in the middle of the night, and it's his best mate telling him it. He nods, still not sure if Bernie's eyes have adjusted, and says, "Thanks, Bernie. You too."

He hears Bernie suck in a sharp breath, and then it seems like he vanishes. If not for Reggie's sight, he'd have thought he'd been taken, vanished into some vacuum or whatever else. He's momentarily afraid Bernie's going to go and faint on him, code-blue style, but then he's back, breathing, and speaking.

"Reg?" He asks, voice more afraid - more on-edge - than it had been before.

"Yeah?"

He listens, thinking Bernie's going to say something else, but he lets out a muffled yelp when he's suddenly attacked, jumped upon by Bernie, who's pressed his lips unexpectedly to his. He barely has time to register it's happening before it's over, and Bernie is pulling back from him, swearing under his breath and fumbling about with his arms, unsure of what to do with them, and with himself right about now.

"Shit, Reg- I'm sorry, I dunno why I..." he stops himself, because knows exactly _why_  he does it. Rather, he means he's not sure why he thought it was a good idea, but now that his crisis has given Reggie some spare time to contemplate the events, his smile grows, and then he's got his hands on Reggie's face, and he's leaning to kiss him again.

And, for a moment, they're just two guys, young and carefree, who've written an undeniable number one, kissing in Reggie's mum's house, with his nan asleep next door. He lets himself finally enjoy it, not feeling like he's forcing himself on Bernie, who's found use in his own arms again and has his hands on Reggie's face again.

It's not deeply passionate, and it's definitely not sexual. Then again, it can hardly be considered platonic, because the only people Reggie has ever kissed on the mouth as an adult are romantic interests. It's the perfect balance for him, somewhere between wanton and apologetic, and he doesn't ever want it to end. However, as with all things, it has to, and when it does the two of them are left sat across from each other again, as they had been before, flushed and giggling like schoolgirls.

"Well," Bernie pipes up, sounding breathless, "I'll be the first to say I never thought that'd happen, ever."

"You're telling me," Reggie laughs, then feels his nerves flooding back to him again as he feels forced to ask, "Was that alright? I mean, do you want to leave? We can pretend it didn't happen."

"Uh, no." Bernie sounds so sure, it's so fantastically relieving for Reggie's anxieties, answering any and all of his qualms instantly. "No, I think that should happen again sometime, if you'd like anyway."

Both of the men acknowledge that there's no need for Reggie to answer that, considering how he's been more in love with Bernie than any of his ex-flings, and his girlfriends. He feels more for the man before him, and now, after all of this, he can feel there's no shame in any of that. His guilt dissipates, leaving him with only one more question.

"Bernie," he calls to the darkness, enjoying the slight echo it causes on the inside of his newly cleared mind, "Will you stay with me tonight? We don't have to do anything, obviously, I just want you here."

He can clearly see when the smile spreads itself across Bernie's face, because the man looks to full of glee that it's impossible to miss. Reggie feels exactly the same way.

"Yeah," Bernie responds, nodding along with his words, "Yeah, I think that'd be nice."

They might have to come up with an alibi as to why Bernie is in his room now, but it doesn't matter. Reggie has him, really has him now, and together, he thinks, they just might be unstoppable. Most definitely they're a force to be reckoned with, and he hopes that they - the two of them, together - might be able to go down in history together, rewriting and shaping, forming a new, iconic duo.

He doesn't think they'll be forgotten for a while yet, and neither will their song.


End file.
